When it comes to parenthood, there are moments that stick out. Moments where you think, “OK, I need to mentally bookmark this blip in time because it’s special.” I have those moments from time to time with my daughter. I also have other moments……………… moments where I think, “Huh, I’ve done this before.” Like the time I fed my daughter solid food for the first (and second and third and fourth) time. It reminded me of the many times I sat and spoon-fed my own mother. On the one hand, the idea makes me sad; on the other hand, from a practical standpoint, I know that I need to carve out some time — regardless if I’m feeding my mom or my child.
That moment was one of a handful of other “moments” that I’ve experienced over the past six months. Yes, it’s are different. There’s certainly much more joy attached to the act of feeding my baby. And I must say, dealing with poop is a real pleasure when the pooper is a tiny bundle and not a full-grown woman who, at one time, was very stubborn and rather difficult due to her behaviors……………… a very common thing among folks with frontotemporal dementia (FTD)
Still, it’s a little surreal.
My mom’s dementia is a little bit like that movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Over the years, she’s regressed, considerably, from adult, to teen, to child, to (very difficult) toddler to infant. Today, she can’t walk; she can’t talk, and, right now, her food looks like the same pureed mush my daughter eats. Only fancier. In some ways, the two are like ships passing in the night……………………… developmentally……………………. they’re both in diapers, they both eat the same type of food, they’re both non-verbal and both require full-time care.
But then, that’s what this disease does, it robs you and your family of possibility. And sometimes it robs you of hope.
A baby, on the other hand, gives you hope; in a child there’s possibility. There’s a future.
For me, there will always be moments, especially, when there are challenges………….. like when my baby is a toddler and decides to create a scene. In public. I’ve been there with my mom…………….. same-same, but different.
I’m not sure if any of this makes me sad or if I’m sort of numb to it all. I think after a while, one becomes very good at detachment. It’s a survival thing. Detachment from emotions that might otherwise leave you in a depressed state for the rest of your life is probably a very healthy skill to develop when caring for someone with frontotemporal dementia or Alzheimer’s disease…………………………….
They’re there, but not really.
They’re alive, but they just stare.
They take and take and take, and, yet, give absolutely nothing back.
At least, with my daughter, while she takes, she also gives. That’s a wonderful thing. Because when life steals from you, to have a little person come into your world and fill your heart, well, that’s kind of a miracle.
You shouldn’t be alone; but sometimes you are. Below are ways friends and family can help.
Dealing with my mom was especially difficult, mostly because of the lack of help. Unfortunately, due to of her type of dementia — frontotemporal dementia — it was almost impossible to ask for help because of her behaviors. In hindsight, I suppose, there were small things that could have been done to help lighten the load. The thing is, when you’re in the thick of this kind of caregiving, you are the one who is often sidelined……………………………… you become a prisoner to your loved one and your home. You don’t have time to reach out, check in and let friends and family know that you’re OK.
Caregiving is about survival. It’s about getting through the day (and, sometimes, the night). It’s exhausting work. And here’s the proof: According to the Alzheimer’s Association, in 2013, 15.5 million caregivers provided more than 17 billion hours of unpaid care valued at $220 BILLION.
So if you know someone who is caring for someone with Alzheimer’s disease or another dementia (like FTD), do something. They probably could use a helping hand from time to time, but don’t expect them to call you.
If you are, then you’re kind of being a jerk because it’s not about you. At all.
I found this article by Marie Marley on the Huffington Post blog. It speaks to this issue, and gives you — the friends and family of that person caring for someone with Alzheimer’s disease or other dementia — ideas as to how you can help.
Nancy is the primary caregiver for her husband, George, who has mid-stage Alzheimer’s. It’s exhausting work. She’s on call 24/7 and often feels overwhelmed by her responsibilities, which seem never ending. After four years of this, she’s burned out. She doesn’t have any time to herself and is neglecting her own health. Furthermore, her heart is broken as she watches George’s memory and functioning steadily decline a little at a time.
Sally — Nancy’s best friend — stands by and watches as Nancy becomes more worn out by the day. Sally would like to help but she doesn’t have any idea what to do. Every time she asks Nancy how she can help, Nancy just says, “There’s really nothing you can do.” Sally takes this at face value and after a while stops asking.
According to the Alzheimer’s Association, 15.5 million people are serving as caregivers to people with Alzheimer’s, providing over 17.7 billion hours of unpaid care every year. Carrying out their duties has a negative effect on their physical and mental health. (See my previous article, Alzheimer’s Caregiving May Be Wrecking Your Health, for more details about the impact of caregiving — especially taking care of a loved one with Alzheimer’s.)
These people desperately need all the assistance they can get. It will help them preserve their own well-being. It will also help them improve their caregiving since no one can be a good caregiver if they’re burned out all the time.
With so many people being Alzheimer’s caregivers, chances are good that you know one – either a friend, relative or neighbor. And chances are that you’d like to help, but like Sally, you simply don’t know how.
Many Alzheimer’s caregivers are deeply dedicated and feel like they should be able to “do it all,” and they are often so burned out they can’t even imagine how anyone could assist them. In addition, they may be reluctant to ask for help because they don’t want to impose upon people and because they’re afraid people will refuse to help.
So if you really want to be of service, instead of just saying, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” you may need to figure it out yourself and volunteer for a specific task(s).
Here are but a few things you can select from:
1. Help clean the house 2. Take over extras from a meal you’ve cooked for your family 3. Do the laundry 4. Do the grocery shopping 5. Pick up medicines from the pharmacy 6. Volunteer to run other specific errands 7. Mow the lawn and/or do other yard work (assuming the person doesn’t use a lawn service) 8. Visit and just let the person talk about feelings 9. Drive the person with Alzheimer’s to their daycare center (if they’re going to daycare) 10. Take the person with Alzheimer’s to the doctor 11. Take the person with Alzheimer’s out for a drive 12. Look after the person with Alzheimer’s in your home for a few hours
With a little thought you can certainly come up with additional tasks. Items 9 – 12 are especially important because they will give caregivers some badly-needed time alone to rest and recharge their batteries. But whatever you select, try to be specific and try to volunteer to do it on an ongoing basis. Make sure you will be able to continue your help before you make a commitment.
I can tell you from my personal experience as an Alzheimer’s caregiver for seven years that anything you do will indeed be most helpful. I had no assistance and furthermore, I didn’t even ask my friends to do anything for me. I only wish I’d read an article like this one back when I was a caregiver. It could have made a big difference in my daily life, and would have significantly reduced my stress. It also could have prevented my health from deteriorating as much as it did.
So the next time you see someone you care about serving as an Alzheimer’s caregiver, consult this list, or come up with a task(s) on your own, and simply announce to the person that you are going to do it and tell them when you’re going to start. He or she will probably be greatly appreciative, even if initially hesitant to ask for your support.
Can anyone think of other specific things that could be done to help an Alzheimer’s caregiver?
Another Mother’s Day has come and gone. It’ll be two weeks this Sunday. I think. OK, so I’m totally late to the game here. I wanted to write about it; but for me, the day was just another day. Sort of. It was my first Mother’s Day. It was my Mother’s 37th Mother’s Day. She was probably aware of maybe 30 Mother’s Days, give or take …………………………………………… who knows. It’s hard to say. Still, for a long time, Mother’s Day hasn’t meant that much to me.
(if your mother had no idea what day it is, you too might find it really hard to go all out on her behalf; I mean, at that point, it’s more about you, not about her. It feels cheap, even forced. At least that’s how it felt to me.)
After my mom started forgetting things like Mother’s Day, I stopped paying attention to the day. Besides being hurtful, the day is over the top and absurd. I mean, let’s be honest here, if you are so inclined to thank your mother because it’s Mother’s Day, you’rea) thanking your mother for doing her job. b) it’s a little self-congratulatory; moms you signed up for this; and c) maybe you should start thanking your mother on a daily basis.
By the way, C is free advice.
That said, I suppose this Mother’s Day was different. I’m now someone’s mother. I received my first Mother’s Day cards. People reached out to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. Still, it was all very foreign to me. And yet, despite the lovely sentiments, I managed to remain mostly indifferent about it. OK, I managed to ignore (or rather, avoid) the day (and what it means) to the best of my abilities. I didn’t want to feel anything. Because maybe if I actually felt something, if I let the day mean something to me, it would have been a betrayal……………………………………… to my own mother.
I think next year will be different. Two weeks ago, it was just too much to process. Too much to take in. Just another reminder of the past; the horrible, horrifying past.
You see, when I sit down and think about the last ten years and process the loss, the sadness, the disappointments, the grief, the frustrations, the letdowns …………………………………………… to inhale that kind of pain…………………………… I think few people get it. Watching your mother endure this kind of agony, watching your mother pound on glass inside a looney bin………… witnessing horror after horror………………………………… this endless agony, it does something to you; it alters your DNA.
Family Caregiver Award Winner – Kathy Ritchie (Primary Caregiver for her mother, a resident of Beatitudes Campus, Phoenix, AZ)The Exceptional Friend or Family Caregiver Award recognizes an individual who has demonstrated outstanding compassion and abilities in one-on-one caregiving for a friend or family member living with dementia.
Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the event in person, but I am tremendously honored to be recognized by Leading Age and the Beatitudes Campus. I am hunting down the video and will post to the blog as soon as I can.
In the meantime, here is my acceptance speech:
This award is a tremendous honor, and I’m incredibly humbled to be on this stage tonight. What I did for my mother, I did, because, at the end of the day, my actions had to sit well with my soul. Simple as that. And that’s why I left one life and started another when I moved home to Arizona in 2009. My mother needed an advocate, and I was determined to do everything in my power to see that she received the best care possible. It certainly wasn’t an easy road, and to this day, I live with the woulda’s, the shoulda’s and the coulda’s… as most caregivers can surely attest, the “what if’s” can keep you up at night! Unfortunately her dementia was unforgiving — my mother spent time at two psychiatric facilities where she was given psychotropic drugs to curb her behaviors, which were the result of her type of dementia; we were asked to leave three assisted living facilities and one adult day care center; and we’ve endured rejections from assisted living facilities… her behaviors meant she wasn’t a good fit.
The thing is, my story is not unique. There are so many families struggling to cope with their loved one’s dementia, and so many of those families lack the financial, emotional and even physical resources needed to adequately care for them. This is the quiet before the tsunami. The number of Americans who develop Alzheimer’s disease is expected to increase significantly — and that’s just one type of dementia. Right now, there is no cure, no way to prevent or slow the onset of Alzheimer’s disease or any other dementia, for that matter. That’s why I put our story out there. I want the world to wake up and realize we need help; we need a cure.
Over three-thousand days have passed since I noticed something was wrong with my mother. Today, she’s nearing the end of this heartbreaking journey. And while there is a very big part of me that wants to close this chapter for good, I can’t. I have a 2 month old daughter and I am determined to continue to be a part of the solution. I hope you’ll join me to raise awareness and to serve as an advocate for those who need it most.
Kathy Ritchie’s mother is living, yet she is mourned for her loss of self. She suffers from dementia.
Ritchie, founder of the blog My Demented Mom, visited HuffPost Live to discuss the disease affecting five million Americans and her personal struggles with her own mom’s diagnosis.
“It is painful, it is a trauma,” she told host Nancy Redd of the crippling disorder. “I have been grieving my mother for a very, very long time.” Ritchie recalled seeing her mother in terrible states, heavily medicated with antipsychotic drugs. The woman was not the mother she knew, and not the grandmother she wanted her newborn daughter to remember. “It’s hard to talk about,” she said. “She was just a really good person.”
Ritchie’s blog opens the discussion to others faced with similar caregiving demands, but it also helps her cope and push forward, knowing her daughter will one day read about her efforts. “The blog captures so many moments and I want her to know the kind of woman her grandma was and what I did for my mother,” she said.
The other day, my friend Gary posted an NPR “All Things Considered” interview with a woman named Deirdre Sullivan to his Facebook wall. The gist of the interview was the importance of going to the funeral — a lesson that was imparted to Sullivan by her father.
Sullivan says this: I believe in always going to the funeral. My father taught me that. The first time he said it directly to me, I was 16 and trying to get out of going to calling hours for Miss Emerson, my old fifth grade math teacher. I did not want to go. My father was unequivocal. “Dee,” he said, “you’re going. Always go to the funeral. Do it for the family.”
The interview got me thinking. And then it began to irritate me. My mother has mostly been forgotten about. I rarely hear from her family or friends — family and friends she did so much for before the dementia consumed her gray matter — even on her birthday. Yes, I receive the occasional Facebook message or email, but mostly, I hear from no one.
I suppose life goes on. We reside in our own purgatory.
It’s been like that for a very long time.
Which brings me back to the whole funeral thing.
Sullivan says this about her own father’s funeral, The most human, powerful and humbling thing I’ve ever seen was a church at 3:00 on a Wednesday full of inconvenienced people who believe in going to the funeral.
When my mother finally takes her last breath, she will likely be surrounded by myself, her husband and my boyfriend (a man who has done more for her than her own siblings). As for the funeral, I don’t know who will reach out and ask about attending. As for those who completely abandoned her in life — I am thinking of a select few — well, they likely won’t hear about it from me.
If you weren’t there for her in life; why bother in death? Let’s face it: Going to the funeral is the easy part; hardly an inconvenience, especially if you never had to witness the wretched reality. The truth is, if she mattered at all, there would have been visits, inquiries, phone calls, offers of support — especially during those incredibly dark, dark days when she was locked away or when they wanted to electrocute her brain.
My interview with Max Wallack, founder of Puzzles To Remember, an organization that provides puzzles to nursing homes that care for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients, proves that no matter how old you are, you can make a huge difference in the fight against Alzheimer’s disease and dementias.
Wallack first witnessed the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s disease when he was just a child. His great-grandmother suffered from AD, and it was watching her descent into the darkness that prompted Wallack to do something about it. When he was 12, he started collecting and donating puzzles to facilities that cared for Alzheimer’s patients. And when he was 14, he worked with a philanthropic group to create puzzles that were geared toward patients with memory loss. Today, he’s a student at Boston University and a research intern in the Molecular Psychiatry and Aging Laboratory in the Department of Pharmacology and Experimental Therapeutics at BU’s School of Medicine.
Below, Wallack talks about the book, his advocacy work and how you — and your child — can become advocates and help #ENDALZ!
You’re incredibly active in the world of Alzheimer’s and dementia… What spurred this interest and what are you working on today?
I have always been interested in science and in inventing. I won my first invention contest at the age of 7 when I made a special step to help elderly people get into minivans. I made it for my great-grandmother, who accompanied me and demonstrated the step at the awards ceremony in Chicago. As I grew older, my interest in science, and specifically medicine, increased. Of course, this was spurred on by Great Grams progression into Alzheimer’s disease. I read more and more about this subject.
Today, I am very involved in Alzheimer’s research. An article I coauthored will appear in September’s Journal of Alzheimer’s Disease, and I am in the process of writing up several additional articles. My work has focused on three areas: 1. Enzymes that can be used as biomarkers to test for early AD, including the differences in results between males and females 2. The effects of ACE inhibitors on AD patients and 3. The use of a naturally occurring hormone, already approved for use with diabetic patients, which seems to be capable of clearing significant amounts of ABeta from the brains of transgenic mice, and we are already beginning human trials with this hormone.
Talk to me about the founding of your organization Puzzles to Remember — what is it, what inspired its creation and how old were you when you decided to create PTR?
During the last few months of Great Grams’ life she was in and out of hospitals and nursing facilities. When I visited her in those facilities, I noticed that patients who were working on jigsaw puzzles were calmer and less agitated. I researched this, and I found that cognitive activities, such as jigsaw puzzles, can help extend the time during which an AD remains functional in society. I decided to start collecting puzzles and donate them to the facilities that had cared for Great Grams. Soon, I realized I needed a means of accepting donations so that I could send puzzles to more distant facilities, and, when I was 12, I applied for 501c3 status. I also found that there was a dearth of puzzles that were most suitable for Alzheimer’s patients, so I contacted Springbok Puzzles. They had previously donated to my cause. Springbok is a very philanthropic company, and together we developed the Springbok Puzzles To Remember. These puzzles, developed in 2010, when I was 14, have 12 or 36 large sized pieces with bright colors and memory provoking themes. To date, I have distributed over 24,500 puzzles to over 2,050 facilities around the world.
There are many young people who have been touched by Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias. What advice would you give them if they wanted to become advocates and make a difference in the lives of those suffering from the disease? How can they start?
This is the same question I get asked frequently about philanthropy. My answer is, start small. Do something to help Alzheimer’s patients or caregivers. Visit a facility. Join a group for Alzheimer’s patients or caregivers. Help out in a memory café; there are many of those just being set up. Sign up for an Alzheimer’s Walk and help raise funds. They can do just one of these things, or as many as they wish. The point is to just get started.
When did you decide it was time to write a book about dementia for young kids? Was it your idea or were you approached?
I have been writing this book in my head for years. One day I asked Carolyn Given, my former middle school English teacher, if she would coauthor such a book with me. She said she would, and, within two hours, I wrote and sent her a completed first draft. Of course, the book underwent several revisions after that, but I was able to write it so quickly because I had thought about it for so long.
Courtesy of Max Wallack
Talk to me about the scenes you witnessed growing up with a great grandmother living with dementia, and what, if anything, ended up in this book?
As part of her AD, Great Grams suffered from extreme paranoia. The story I tell most often is that when my whole family visited Hawaii a few months before Great Grams’ death, I got to meet many, many native Hawaiians. Apparently, when someone goes up to a Honolulu police officer and says “those people are trying to kill me,” they are required to do an investigation. So, when Great Grams got out of her wheelchair and ran to the police officer with that story, I got to meet most of the Honolulu police force!
Great Grams also had many fears. Many fears are represented in the book, although they might not be identical to the ones Great Grams experienced. The scene of the police officers bringing Great Grams home is one that is emblazoned in my mind. It happened more than once.
Through the Alzheimer’s Reading Room, I have interacted with Alzheimer’s caregivers for many years now, and I have formed great friendships with some of them. Some of the scenes in the book are based on the experiences of a family in New York City that has a grandmother with AD and a 6-year-old daughter that has assumed a caregiver role. Some of the illustrations were actually redrawn from photos of that family, including the one with the little girl feeding her grandmother off a red plate.
Talk to me about the scenes you and your co-author came up with and how they came to be. What messages did you want to your young audience to come away with?
Some scenes were based upon my experiences, some were based upon the NYC family’s experiences, and others were developed to convey messages about Alzheimer’s disease. I wanted to write a book that would not be “dark” or frightening, as many other AD books for children seemed to me. That is one reason that I asked for Carolyn Given’s help. I knew she would keep the book from becoming too dark, and perhaps even add a bit of humor. I wanted the book to actually provide children with some helpful coping mechanisms, something which I could find in no other book. I wanted to assure children that they were not the cause of any aspect of this disease and that this disease is not contagious. I wanted to touch upon some difficult topics such as incontinence and wandering in a way which children would understand. I also wanted to provide a simple understandable visual image of what is taking place in the brain of someone with AD by showing a nerve cell throwing and catching a message both in a healthy cell and in one with AD.
I love the title of the book. What inspired it?
Alzheimer’s patients often place articles in strange places. I just was trying to present an image that children might find amusing.
What do you hope to achieve with this book? Is it geared towards kids who have a parent or grandparent or great grandparent living with dementia or is this something you hope all kids will read?
When I wrote the book, I wrote it expecting it to be just for children. What has surprised me is the large number of reviews that say that the book has a lot to offer for adults, as well.
I wrote the book to help child caregivers. However, with the growing number of AD patients, almost every family is touched by this disease in some way. I think all children can benefit from reading this book. In the case of the NYC family, the children of their neighbors have read the book and now interact much more constructively with the grandmother. Striving to understand other people makes us more empathetic and more kind as individuals.
What is your favorite part of the book?
My favorite part of the book is when Julie decides that she might become a scientist and help find a treatment or cure for AD. I think it is very important to provide hope for the future.
The drawing of three scientists in the lab is actually a drawing of me, Dr. Qiu, my mentor and Principal Investigator, and Dr. Zhu my mentor and co-worker.
I also think it was important to mention clinical trials at the end of the book. Willingness to participate in clinical trials is a necessity in order for us to find treatments and/or cures.
How have children and their parents received this book?
The response to the book, from everyone, has been just wonderful. Parents have used the book almost as a manual to explain specific behaviors that the child is witnessing. I have heard that children have been able to interact much more constructively once provided with some useful coping mechanisms. I have even received notes of appreciation from 6 year olds.
I am surprised and pleased that word about the book has spread around the world. A company in Singapore that makes children’s toys and assistive aids for seniors contacted me and wants to purchase 40 books to distribute to facilities there. Apparently, information about Alzheimer’s disease is not very easily available in Singapore. They hope to use this book to bring light and attention to this disease.
One of the comments I hear most frequently is, “This book really needs to be translated into . . .”
What advice would you give to a young person watching this disease unfold right before their eyes?
No part of it is your fault and you cannot catch this disease.
The person with AD is the same person they have always been. They have not turned into someone else. You can still enjoy many interactions with them. There is still “more there” than may be easily apparent. Art and music are great avenues for interactions.
Many people are working very hard to try to find treatments and cures. Maybe you can help.
What’s next for Max Wallack?
I will continue working in the research lab. I love my work there, and I learn more there than anywhere else. I will continue my studies at Boston University and then, hopefully, attend medical school and prepare myself to become a Geriatric Psychiatrist, working with patients and their caregivers.
It’s World Alzheimer’s Month. I hope you watch this video. Share this video. Tweet this video. Facebook this video. Tell people about this video. If you’ve been touched by Alzheimer’s disease or any other dementia, consider it your responsibility to spread the word. Make people aware. It starts with YOU.
I have a message for my mother’s friends, family and acquaintances: She’s still alive.
My mother’s heart still beats. Though she might not be able to talk to you, walk with you, or share a laugh with you, she’s still here. She’s still alive.
If you spend any amount of time with her, you’ll quickly realize she’s here…………. and like most living, breathing human beings, she craves touch. Hold her hand. I do. Yes, it’s hard, especially when she yells out; I hate watching my mother’s face contort in such a way that it looks like she’s in pain. I know she can’t be……… but maybe, she knows. Maybe she knows she’s trapped inside a body that won’t follow her commands.
It’s a muggy Sunday afternoon when I visit my mom……….. it’s just after noon and she’s eating (or rather drinking) her lunch. The caregiver asks if I want to spoon-feed her the rest of her liquified meat.
Next time someone talks to you about the preservation of human life, try thinking about the thing that really matters at the end of the day: quality of life. Or how about this: DIGNITY.
Midway through her meal of watery green goop and off-white, milky muck, she chokes and coughs. Brownish goo comes flying out of her mouth and splatters all over my green shirt.
I start to feel angry……. not at her, rather at those who have forgotten her. Her family and friends………….
My mother did so much for so many people………. When the church would call, she would pray, she would volunteer to give communion to the sick, she would give of herself. When her family called with a crisis, she would pray, she would provide the means for them to literally have a better life…………. And now, she’s alone.
No one asks for her, really…………… On her birthday, there were no calls, no e-mails. Nothing. It was another day for the rest of the world.
After lunch, I take her back to her room. Her fingernails are too long………. I ask the nurse for a pair of clippers and start trimming. It isn’t long before my back starts to ache and my abdomen cramps just a little………. I’m hunched over, just inches away from her hand. Fingernails fly up and flick my face.
Her toenails are another challenge. They’re twisted……. they overlap and are stiff from lack of use………
I need to remember to bring nail polish remover next time. The gold paint I swiped over her toenails last spring still remains……………… was it last spring; has it been that long? Am I the only person who paints her nails? UGH.
My body twists and contorts so I can find just the right angle to trim her thick toenails. Mom is sound asleep. Good. I think she’d be yelling if she where awake.
She inhabits a place somewhere between life and death.
It’s a grotesque place.
By the time I leave, I have a headache and my blood is boiling. I feel nothing but hate and resentment. I know I should let it go…………………. After all, what’s that saying? Something about hatred poisons and hurts me, not them?
I don’t care. Shut up. Stupid quote. Nonsense. This is unforgivable. Where’s a vengeful God when you need one? Fire. Brimstone. Come on!
After a few days of stewing, the anger eventually subsides……………. is it anger? Maybe it’s hurt. Resentment? Rage? Jealously? Contempt? All of the above. I try to cut myself some slack……………… yes, I wish I could be more serene about her illness………….. but then, I think back to those darker days, and the anger bubbles up again. STOP.
I wonder if there is a heaven………………or a hell. I wonder what God will decide.
Last summer, Frederick C. Hayes was admitted to the advanced-dementia unit at Jewish Home Lifecare, on West 106th Street. It was not an easy arrival. Hayes, a veteran of the Korean War, had been a trial lawyer for five decades. He was tall, and, though he was in his early eighties, he remained physically imposing, and he had a forceful disposition that had served him well in the courtroom. One of his closest friends liked to say that if things were peaceful Hayes would start a war, but in war he’d be the best friend you could have.
Hayes practiced law until 2010, when he went to the hospital for a knee operation. While there, he was given a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease. His combative tendencies had become markedly pronounced, and before arriving at Jewish Home he was shuttled among several institutions. Nobody could manage his behavior, even after Haldol, a powerful antipsychotic drug, was prescribed. In the advanced-dementia unit, he appeared to be in considerable discomfort, but when doctors there asked him to characterize his pain, on a scale of one to ten, he insisted that he was not in pain at all. Still, something was clearly wrong: he lashed out at the nurses’ aides, pushing them away and even kicking them. It took three aides to get him changed.
One day in September, a woman named Tena Alonzo stopped by Hayes’s room. Alonzo, the director of education and research at the Beatitudes Campus, a retirement community in Phoenix, Arizona, found Hayes lying in a hospital bed that had been lowered to within a foot of the floor, to lessen the risk that he would hurt himself by falling out of it. His face was contorted into a grimace, she later recalled, and he writhed and moaned. Alonzo, who is fifty-two, has spent the past twenty-eight years working with dementia patients—or, in her preferred locution, with people who have trouble thinking. She crouched next to the bed, and spoke in a quiet, intimate tone. “I’m here to help you—do you hurt anywhere?” she asked, moving her hand gently over his chest, his abdomen, his arms and legs. With each touch, she asked, “Do you hurt here?” When her hand reached his belly, the moaning ceased and Hayes spoke to her. “I hurt so bad,” he said. “I promise you, we are going to fix this,” Alonzo said, and he thanked her. . . .
Call me bitter, heck, even disgustingly angry; but when I saw this story on my Facebook news feed, then later listened to a report about the study on NPR’s Morning Edition, I rolled my eyes and thought, “Well, DUH!”
Caregivers are MORE than aware of the ridiculous costs associated with this dementia care — financially, emotionally and spiritually. And while a report like this helps to educate those whose pocketbooks are not yet being impacted by dementia, our elected officials (at every level) must vote to allocate funds to support research initiatives.
Unfortunately, thanks to our not-so-brilliant Representatives in Washington, who bicker like children and most certainly don’t deserve their lucrative pay, health insurance and pension, funding for research has been cut as a result of sequestration.
George Vradenburg, Chairman of USAgainstAlzheimer’s, said it best in a statement his organization issue last month: “From polio to cancer and from heart disease to HIV/AIDS, we have seen that a commitment to targeted research into high-cost diseases is a proven deficit reduction strategy.”
We need a cure. We need a way to delay or stop the onset of dementia. If we don’t come up with an effective treatment plan, dementia costs will bankrupt families.
In the meantime, if you did not know that dementia is a very costly disease, you should read the article below……………………. and maybe start saving your pennies now.
The most rigorous study to date of how much it costs to care for Americans with dementia found that the financial burden is at least as high as that of heart disease orcancer, and is probably higher. And both the costs and the number of people with dementia will more than double within 30 years, skyrocketing at a rate that rarely occurs with a chronic disease.
The research, led by an economist at the RAND Corporation, financed by the federal government, and published Wednesday in The New England Journal of Medicine, provides the most reliable basis yet for measuring the scale of the problem. Until now, the most-cited estimates of the condition’s cost and prevalence came from an advocacy group, the Alzheimer’s Association.
Although some figures from the new research are lower than the association’s projections, they are nonetheless staggering and carry new gravity because they come from an academic research effort. Behind the numbers is a sense that the country, facing the aging of the baby boom generation, is unprepared for the coming surge in the cost and cases of dementia.
“It’s going to swamp the system,” said Dr. Ronald C. Petersen, who is chairman of the advisory panel to the federal government’s recently created National Alzheimer’sPlan and was not involved in the RAND study.
If anything, Dr. Petersen said of the study’s numbers, “they’re being somewhat conservative.” Dr. Petersen, the director of the Alzheimer’s Disease Research Center at the Mayo Clinic, is part of another team collecting data on dementia costs.
The RAND results show that nearly 15 percent of people aged 71 or older, about 3.8 million people, have dementia. By 2040, the authors said, that number will balloon to 9.1 million people.
“I don’t know of any other disease predicting such a huge increase,” said Dr. Richard J. Hodes, director of the National Institute on Aging, which financed the study. “And as we have the baby boomer group maturing, there are going to be more older people with fewer children to be informal caregivers for them, which is going to intensify the problem even more.”
The study found that direct health care expenses for dementia, including nursing home care, were $109 billion in 2010. For heart disease, those costs totaled $102 billion; for cancer, $77 billion.
The study also quantified the value of the sizable amount of informal care for dementia, usually provided by family members at home. That number ranged from $50 billion to $106 billion, depending on whether economists valued it by the income a family member was giving up or by what a family would have paid for a professional caregiver.
Michael D. Hurd, the lead author and a principal senior researcher at RAND, said the team could find no research quantifying such informal care for heart disease and cancer. But he and other experts agree that given the intensive nature and constant monitoring required to care for people with dementia, informal costs are probably much higher than those for most other diseases.
Dr. Petersen said, “Clearly, dementia is going to outstrip those dramatically.”
Without a way to prevent, cure or effectively treat these conditions yet, the bulk of the costs — 75 to 84 percent, the study found — involves helping patients in nursing homes or at home manage the most basic activities of life as they become increasingly impaired cognitively and then physically.
“The long-term care costs associated with people with dementia are particularly high because of the nature of the disease,” said Donald Moulds, acting assistant secretary for planning and evaluation at the federal Department of Health and Human Services. “People eventually become incapable of caring for themselves, and then in the vast majority of cases, their loved ones become incapable of caring for them.”
Each case of dementia costs $41,000 to $56,000 a year, the study said. Researchers project that the total costs of dementia care will more than double by 2040, to a range of $379 billion to $511 billion, from $159 billion to $215 billion in 2010. Because the population will also increase, Dr. Hurd said, the burden of cost per capita will not grow quite as fast, but will still be nearly 80 percent more in 2040.
The study used information collected over almost a decade on nearly 11,000 people from a large database called the Health and Retirement Study, considered a gold standard among researchers on aging issues. All of the people followed were given detailed cognitive tests, while a subset of them were more intensely evaluated for dementia and their results used as benchmarks to rate cognitive decline for the others, Dr. Hurd said.
Dr. Hurd noted that in addition to the estimates of people with actual dementia, earlier analyses of the same data estimated that 22 percent of people aged 71 and older — about 5.4 million people — have mild cognitive impairment that does not reach the threshold for dementia. In the study, about 12 percent of those people developed dementia each year, meaning that they experienced problems with memory, concentration and daily functioning that were severe enough to meet the medical definition.
The number of dementia cases calculated in the RAND study is smaller than that from the Alzheimer’s Association, which used a different database and tended to count people in earlier stages of memory loss. The association estimates that five million people aged 65 and older have Alzheimer’s, the most common dementia.
The RAND cost estimates for current dementia care are similar to the Alzheimer’s Association’s, but the association’s future cost projections are significantly higher: $1.2 trillion in 2050.
Robert Egge, the association’s vice president for public policy, said his group’s cost projections are based on the assumption that “more and more people will be in severe stages of dementia” in the future because they will be older. He said his group welcomed the RAND study, especially its comparison of dementia to other serious illnesses. It shows that groups using different methodologies reached the same conclusion about the high costs of dementia care, he said.
Dr. Petersen, whose team at the Mayo Clinic will be analyzing costs using a third distinct data set, said he suspected that “the reality is somewhere in the middle” of the RAND numbers and the Alzheimer’s Association’s projections.
When it comes to dementia, Dr. Hurd said, his team’s study could not capture the full toll of the disease. “One thing we haven’t talked about, and it’s not in the paper, is the tremendous emotional cost,” he said. “Economists are coldhearted, but they’re not that coldhearted.”